Change
by Fink the Sinosauropteryx
Summary: Robin, though older, smarter, and stronger, once again feels the daunting pressure of change. Faced with the chance to simply let it be or to fight it, Robin will go through one of the toughest changes in his life. Will the Titans be able to support their leader? Will old enemies come crawling back more dangerous than ever? Who knows. Read and find out.


Right...first fanfiction posted here...it is not proofread, looked over by a beta or anything like that, so please forgive errors you may find... other than that, enjoy.

Edit: I fixed a few things, but that does not mean there are no remaining errors. You have been warned.

* * *

Something was changing, an unseen force shifting steadily with a sluggish air, invisible yet surely felt. For most, this strange sensation went unnoticed, normal in a world filled with changes –some small, others monumental if not devastating - but for a certain hero, the subtle shift was one that had the young idol pacing relentlessly within the confines of his chambers.

Change was not normal for this young wonder.

Change meant heart-breaking, soul-shattering scenes of despair and a shaky recovery. Change meant the death of his parents and the stern guidance of a dark knight, the pain of true injury, the frustrations of a protective guardian and the sweet freedom of escape. Change meant finding the love of a team, the devotion of friendship, and the increasing fear that change would rip it all away which each new villain that dared to taint the world in pursuit of their own twisted happiness.

Whenever change was in the air, so thick that he could practically taste it, he knew something was coming. He knew he should be used to it, should welcome the inevitable shifts in his life. Yet, like most humans, Robin was a creature of habit, adaptable, but always preferring things as they were.

After all, had Zucco not killed his parents, Robin would still be with his parents, most likely having the time of his life as he took to the trapeze act, following in the footsteps of his beloved mother and father. He would have never met Batman - AKA Bruce Wayne - he would have never shed his old life of Richard John Grayson of The Flying Graysons to become Robin, fought with every bit of strength and will he could muster against the many villainous creatures who lurked in the shadows. Robin would have been devoid of the harsh life style of training to kill and training to restrain himself from snuffing out the lives that many felt deserved death in payment for their crimes. He would not have to fight, would not have to worry for everyone when a new piece of scum floated to the top of the pond, would have never known the bond of the Teen Titans.

Ah, yes...the Titans. His band of friends, his allies against evil, his support that Batman could never give in his role of mentor, protector, and foster father. They were the reason he chose not to fight his current life, to abandon Jump City in favor of more peaceful pastures to hide in. Many would say it was his need to protect the innocent from the wicked like all heroes did, yet Robin would disagree. Morals were taught, beaten into the mind through words, lessons, even physical direction. Robin would probably kill freely had he been taught that it was alright, that there was no law against taking another life. Humans were animals after all, animals that had conceived a world of supposed black and white. Starfire...Beast Boy...Cyborg...even Raven, they all held the beliefs of the morally just, to become a physical representation of evil's bane. They kept him grounded in his rare fits of rage, quelled the desire to off villains who escaped the precious jail system to wreak destruction and havoc yet again. His team, his family through bond and experience...Robin knew he would be nothing more than Batman's shadow without them, or worse, Slade's apprentice.

Slade...curious how one word could cause the teen hero's body to stiffen, tense up with emotions heroes should not feel. Anger...heroes needed to keep calm. Hate...heroes were supposed to love everything, give every lost soul a second chance to redeem themselves, there was no room for hate in a true hero's heart. Frustration...heroes always won, even when the start of the battle looked grim, they never let a villain slip through their hands, escape justice, judgement, and sentence time and time again, there was no need to feel frustrated. That was just the surface. Even Raven avoid digging too deep into the dark shadows of his heart, the almost crippling need to just _hurt_ something or a specific _someone _, the swirling mass of negative energy, acidic, decaying, _festering_, in the back of his mind until it began to eat away at his positive half. It grew by the day, fed by the repetitive motions of searching for Slade, fighting bad guys who always found a way to come back, discovering that he could not prevent every crime from happening every time he picked up the paper or watched the news. Yet at the core of it all, the driving force, was Slade. A temptation and a person of complete revulsion.

Robin had tried to sneak past Slade, act like an eager new apprentice under the guise of Red X, to excavate every little secret the mysterious man held and give them away to the world until everyone knew the insides and outsides of Slade. Oh how he wished to look upon every little facet change had caused to form to make Slade who he was today, the desire wriggling in the back of his mind, unwanted thoughts of submission to the man to achieve his goal sprouting forth unbidden from their dark recesses. They were becoming too frequent to be considered a wild flight of fantasy crafted by a battle weary mind. Only Raven, should she have the brass read his mind to that degree, would have an inkling that Robin often thought back to his time as Slade's apprentice, the odd flare of jealousy and - dare he say it - _betrayal_ when Terra had stepped in before the whole Trigon incident. When the teen wonder questioned himself on the issue with those...emotions, he passed it off as a seed added to his internal garden of ego. What else was he supposed to think when a villain obsesses over him, practically ranting about his endeavors to turn Robin into the perfect apprentice only to turn around and adopt someone else for the position?

In any case, the powerless Titan had mixed feeling about the man, his supposed archenemy. On one hand, he wanted to know more, to uncover secrets...perhaps in the hope that Slade was not as cold cut, evil, and ruthless as he seemed, yet on the other, Robin wanted to do nothing more than what the man wanted to teach him, to kill the slippery bastard without a second thought and sleep well knowing the man was dead.

Yet, that was the past. Nearly three years had passed since any sign of Slade had cropped up since the last instance with Terra and it did not look like Slade would be causing mischief around Jump City anytime soon. With the 'major' villains seemingly in respite, Robin and the rest of the Titans - they could not really be considered teens anymore - were left to battle villains who they had long since grew out of, their meager attempts more like a mugging or purse snatching, not terrorizing the city. While Robin liked the lesser crime as made the chance of losing a beloved teammate smaller, it also nibbled at his mind like an insect hollowing out a red wood - small and insignificant at first, but with one came many until the tree was nothing more than chips of putrid bark scattered over soft soil, collapsed and devoured by an inner infestation. In the past, such doldrums always spelled trouble that was almost too much to handle, like a rookie hero turning from muggers and low count thieves to battle harden masterminds within a day. Even muscle heads like Cinderblock or inane clowns like Mumbo seemed to be receding into the shadows as though waiting for a true super villain to appear and begin work while the Titans were distracted with a bigger problem.

Beast Boy - who had been considering changing his code name to Changling lately - for all that he had matured over the years, often joked with his paranoid leader about his inability to relax. Robin would scowl or answer with a quip of sorts, but he knew Beast Boy held an iota of truth in his words. Robin never could truly relax until he knew for certain there was nothing wrong in his precious city or was threatened by an outside source, which meant his moments of appearing relaxed were nothing more than masks to sooth his dear friends' minds. He hated it when they worried, they should not have to worry about anything other than what they wished to do the next day or months from then, not about Robin's near obsession over predicting waves of devastating arrivals of new enemies or the return of old foes who had grown impossibly strong in their absence or his lingering desire to find and finally defeat Slade without the aid of anyone. It was this sense of trying to keep his team as happy and carefree as they were when they were younger that had led Robin to slink into the dimly lit personal training room attached to his room via a secret door. It was there he could recline with a sigh, letting his heavy thoughts free to wander and weave listlessly through his mind, before falling into a comfortable and familiar training routine.

Nothing was new here, everything practiced to perfection, grilled into his body until grueling combinations were performed as easily and instinctively as breathing. Nothing changed, nothing was a surprise, it was his reassurance that change did not force everything in his world to become new and unknown, the rock he clung to in the shifting seas of life. Robin could hide away for hours, drilling over and over until his body ached only to switch to another familiar fighting style to work his muscle in a different way. Just like fighting, the exhausting that came with it was welcomed, an old friend the young hero would never turn away no matter the situation. Even when he felt that he was on his last leg fighting Slade one on one, Robin could take comfort in knowing he was trying, that the bruises and unseen injuries numbed by adrenaline were not from lack of effort, that he was not simply taking the beating and had fought back.

Yet today...today not even his little sanctum could chase away the turbulent storm clouds of _change_ that hung heavy on the horizon of his mind. It was almost palpable, so thick in the air that it made his skin crawl and his brow sticky with a nervous sweat as though a beast stood invisible before him, waiting for the Titan to reach out and touch it. For a week, the looming feeling had been building, twisting in his gut, clawing at his mind with increase fervor until the poor hero could no longer sleep, pressing down on his chest in a suffocating manner. Oh how he yearned for whatever it was coming to just happen, like a parched flower begging for the fat saturated clouds overhead to open up and let it pour till it was well drowned and wishing for the sun instead.

With a feral snarl that would have made Beast Boy crack a joke following the lines of 'I thought I was the one who turned into an animal', Robin lashed out at the unfortunate sand bag with a swift kick, his steel edged shoes gouging a ragged hole in the abused cloth-covered leather, the sand escaping with a defeated hiss. The agitated hero watched blankly as the bag grew hollow, the fine grains that kept it firm spilling out until only the sand below the wound was left. Sighing, he moved to the back wall, his masked gaze locked on a softly lit case. Housed within seemingly flimsy glass was his pet project. Robin had never forgotten the few terrifying moments with Warp when Starfire had been pulled into a future in which the Teen Titans had parted ways on a bad note. since that day, the secretive male had put some thought into the name Nightwing. At first, he dismissed it as something that would not happen, Starfire was with them after all, so that Nightwing was not to be. Yet, even with a strong reputation built in Jump with the Titans, the name Robin was forever linked to his former mentor, forever hidden within Batman's daunting shadow.

It was not uncommon for tourists to gossip about him, wondering if Robin had taken to a daytime mantle while his mentor remained the Dark Knight, swaddled in the night with mysteries as deep as space itself. Robin did not mind at first, his departure, while entirely his decision, still ached when he found himself comparing his in-sync fighting style of his team to the good old days when he was a part of a duo that had yet to be outmatched. yet lately, the young wonder was finding the link unbearable and had begun creating his new and final persona of Nightwing. His new costume was definitely less flashy, no longer eye catching, but rather accentuating to his naturally lithe and deadly build, entirely black save for the blue bird like symbol that spanned across the chest and along either arm. Even the accompanying mask was slightly different. No one would confuse him with his old Robin mantle, effectively cutting the link between he and his mentor in reputation. Running a gloved hand down the glass, as though tracing the light musculature of the dummy sporting his future look, Robin sighed. Jump was not yet ready for the golden group to begin changing despite certain members wishing to alter their hero image even if only it meant changing their name. It would take a painful act, something that would snap Jump City out of its comfort induced haze to realize they needed more than idolized _children_ to protect their helpless hides. It would be then when the Teen Titans could mature into true Titans, break from thin chrysalis' into heroes like Nightwing, Changling, a white cloaked Raven, a Starfire without naivety and a steel heart, and a Cyborg with almost fear inducing levels of technology at his fingers. The Titans had grown immensely since their first meeting in strength and experience, yet the world refused to see past the charm of the _Teen_ Titans.

Shaking his head, Robin turned towards the hidden door, his keen gaze picking out the sole minuscule inconsistency in the smooth wall. It looked more like a chip than anything, a scar from a past fit perhaps, but the tiny indent was actually a scanner, set for a secret code embedded in his right glove. Simply waving his hand, the hero waited patiently as the scanner picked up the numbers and ran them before allowing invisible seams to come into view, growing larger as the door sunk inwards towards the training room before sliding to the right to reveal Robin's personal quarters. Everything was as neat and tidy to be expected of Batman's protegé and leader of a group of super-humans, but Robin knew it was due to a lack of real use. When the hero slept, it was often in a training area or a desk where he was busy researching into the wee hours of the morning. As for bathing, a nice steam filled shower in the adjoining locker room of the main training hall sufficed and was more convenient than trudging back to his room to use his own bathroom.

Casting a wary gaze towards the rarely used, yet spacious, bathroom, Robin debated whether or not to take a shower now. Another reason why he avoided using his personal shower was that by the time he was half done, the Tower's alarm system would go off. This often left Robin clambering and nearly killing himself in the process of finishing up and drying off enough to be able to don his tight-fitting - yet stretchy - uniform without it sticking and bunching against wet skin. Deciding to take a chance - with the current average of villains, his team could probably handle the trouble without him - Robin moved to the door that was always slightly ajar, as if beckoning the stressed male to relieve the tension exercise could not through steam and the steady, yet gentle, beating of hot water against tense muscles.

Exhaling a breath he did not know he was holding, Robin ambled forth, leaving soft carpeting for cool tile as he entered the dark pristine bathroom. Flicking on a light, Robin found that it was not as clean as he figured it would be, a knocked over cup and a few scattered towels along with shelves holding his soaps and things that were in disarray. Quirking a brow, Robin pondered if someone had managed to break in and do a shoddy job of snooping or if he had forgotten to straighten up after the last time he had been interrupted by an emergency, of course, that time it involved his team spazzing out when Batman came to visit. It had been a surprise social call rather than the inevitable check up he always thought Bruce would do at least once. Instead of scoping out the place, Batman was content with hanging out with his former sidekick, having a round or two of casual sparring before catching up over favored treats or meals they both enjoyed before the older hero had to return to Gotham the next day.

Smiling at the happy memory, Robin began to straighten up a bit, removing the musty towels by placing them in a hamper for later washing before straightening out his bathing effects. A couple bottles, whether accidentally left open or popping open upon impact with the floor, had dried out, becoming unsalvageable chunks of old soap, their scent long since lost. Pitching the bottles, he set to reorganizing, tossing things he did not use anymore be it from no longer liking the smell or simply because he had found better products. Eventually, Robin found himself down to a bottle scentless shampoo and conditioner and a bar of lightly scented mint soap. His other 'sporty brands' that Starfire bought were down in the locker room due to the fact that he simply used the showers there more often, plus Beast Boy like to use them as it made Star happy to know that her little gifts had been accepted by her friends. Pausing to make sure nothing had been left to its previous state, the young hero began to strip.

The process was slow and unhurried for once, his masked gaze watching his own movements thanks to a body length mirror. As vain as some thought he was, Robin rarely stopped to observe his visage aside from spiking his hair up and that little bit of vanity only took about five minutes if not less. His body had definitely filled out since the day he came to Jump as a lean and short seventeen year old seeking to make a name for himself while he escaped Batman's shadow. Having had a late growth spurt, Robin was nearly as tall as Cyborg now, the hybridized man and metal male still somewhat huffy over the loss of one of his few advantages over his friend, and his muscles, though not as bulky as Batman - and certainly not Superman - held the same grace as a practiced warrior, each move like a duel edged blade deadly yet beautiful. Unfortunately, he remained as pale as he was in his youth, no amount of beach time had changed that, but Robin did not mind as long as he did not appear sickly. Of course, his body was littered with scars, some small, other large, yet none were fresh or healing. All of the once painful wounds had healed with time, becoming thin lines that barely stood out against his skin. the only thing that seemed to mar the hero's complexion was an ugly bruise that sprawled over the right side of his rib cage.

The deep purple mark was not due to a lucky blow from an adversary, but rather a strike from BB in one of their sparring matches. The fight had started out almost one-sided with Robin appearing to be the victor. However; having let down his guard as he watched Beast Boy shake off a hit that landed a little too close to his neck for the leading Titan's liking, Robin failed to anticipate the green skinned changling to shift into a hummingbird, flying towards him swiftly before shifting as the last second into a ram. Attempting to redirect the strike, Robin had lifted his bo-staff, aiming to land a blow atop the re-enforced skull and drive the charge down. Instead, Beast Boy was faster and hit home just as Robin tried to twist out of the way. They kept up the fight until Robin came out the victor, his win stemming from that fact that despite years of activity, Beast Boy continued to have less stamina than the old Boy Wonder. Casting the dirtied shirt into the hamper after gently setting his cape off to the side, he turned to peeling off his green tights after removing his utility belt, staring at them with a slight air of disbelief. He had worn this kind of visage for so long that Robin had doubted the look would grow old, yet he could not help but notice how the brightly colored costume seemed almost ridiculous on his adult body. Shaking his head, he stripped off the last off his garments, casually tossing the articles in more or less appropriate places before casting a critical eye over his completely nude self.

As noted with his broader shoulders and fuller chest, Robin was no longer a short scrawny teen surprisingly capable of holding his own against massive foes like Cinderblock, or trickier villains like Red X. His limbs boasted lean muscle, subtly shifting beneath taunt pale skin with every slight movement. His belly, once softly defined in spite of rigorous training, held a more defined, yet not exactly cut, six pack that led to the start of firm thighs and fine dusting of ebony hair about the base of his sex. There was not much there, short and flat as though the years of wearing tights and equally form fitting underwear combined with high activity had rubbed the area until it was almost hairless. Robin liked to think himself decent in terms of endowment - he did not make it a habit of staring at intimate parts on other people - his flaccid phallus measuring about four and a half inches and gained another two a half inches when erect. Yet he did not care if he were too small or too big as he failed to have a romantic interest in which be concerned for his size. His love for Starfire had withered, seeming more like an embarrassing attraction of two cousins who had never met as time went on. Sure they had kissed a few times, but they seemed to lack the spark that the team normally viewed between hushed lovers strolling along the streets at night, their secret walk spied upon by a passing vigilant hero.

Without much interest in anything, be it for love or lust, Robin left self-pleasure and useless yearning to those with a normal life. That was not to say he did not know how to please himself...Batman had an interesting time trying to explain things to a naive child just learning about his body and Robin had been more than willing to apply this new knowledge in secret when he had the time alone. Moving on, Robin noted his long legs, corded with sinewy muscles, ready to spring, kick, and push into rolls or deftly mastered acrobatic maneuvers, bared of any hair due to friction of his tights and simply the lack of him growing it. All in all, the hero was pleased with his physic. He was muscled, but not overly so like his mentor or Superman or even the Green Lantern. He was lean, but not quite as lean as the Flash or Aqualad. His pallor was pale, yet in a healthy way while his body bore the story of his life through various markings and scars that littered the supple skin. He seemed every bit the trained acrobat he might have grown to be - save for certain scars - if change had not gotten in the way.

Running a hand through his hair, Robin sighed, the sound laden with 'what ifs' along with his current and past worries. Even the dread of the on coming change, whatever it may be, seemed to grow heavier. Moving away from the mirror, the hero finally pulled the curtain back fully and stepped into the shower.

* * *

Right, well, that finishes the first chapter for this thing tonight...not sure where the in the hell this is headed, might even leave it be if no one wants it fleshed out. If you guys do want more, just a heads up that it _will_ be Slade and Robin one way or another even if I have to insert destine to die OC's *is not above character torture*.

Anywho, review, comment, critique...whatever, just tell me what you think and if I should continue or not.

(Remember, no feedback means I do not know what you guys want which mean no more chapters if you want them.)


End file.
